


Embrace The Haze Around You (You'll Never Want To Leave)

by AngryLou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drug Use (recreational), M/M, Shotgunning, Smoking, Weed, love confessions mid-coitus, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 09:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryLou/pseuds/AngryLou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do that thing again.” He mumbles. Louis looks down at him questioningly. Harry clears his throat. “The shotgun thing.”</p><p>At first he thinks Louis isn’t going to do it. Like he only did it that first time to indulge Harry, or as a joke. But then he’s straddling Harry’s lap and stretching tall to inhale the smoke before bending down with his elbows on Harry’s chest, his face inches from Harry’s. Harry opens his mouth willingly and breathes in all that Louis gives him.</p><p>Or the one where Harry doesn't mind the taste of weed if Louis's mouth is gonna be the next thing he tastes?? I dunno man. Boys with feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embrace The Haze Around You (You'll Never Want To Leave)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey sorry. been a while. Last fic wasn't that great but I tried real hard on the smut this time. Mom would be proud. OKay so here it is.  
> I know lots about weed but nothing about boys so bear with me fam.  
> Lemme know what y'all think.  
> Title is from Willow Beats by Meriwif because I was obsessed with this song for WEEEEKS
> 
> ps. this was finished and uploaded at 3am so not 100% beta-d. I'll get to it later.

Harry isn't a big fan of smoking.

Knowing his particular crowd, it must sound shocking. Most of his friends smoke, and the ones that don't, pursue different types of recreational drug use. He doesn't hang out with cokeheads or meth pushers, but on more than one occasion he's found himself neck deep in second hand smoke. But he can't say he minds very much. If things start getting a little foggy, he can always step outside for a breather or sit out on the balcony. Plus, the effects aren't half bad. 

Tonight he's found himself in a familiar environment. Someone's put on a vinyl, the ratio of lighters to cigs and spliffs as low as it always is, and Harry knows his clothes are going to need a strong wash when he gets home sometime tomorrow.

He's been casually sipping a vodka tonic for some time now, but he's still spinning from the Jell-O shots his mate Nick dangled in front of him an hour or two ago. He's been watching the smoke curl from the end of Nicole's cigarette long enough that his eyes water when he blinks, and then he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

It's Nick, and he's looks ridiculous with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, while another three stick out from his shirt pocket.

"Aw what's the matter, smoke in your eyes?"

Harry would shove him, but he can't feel his arms. He thinks they fell off somewhere in the kitchen. He doesn't know how, but he brings his drink up to his lips anyway.

Nick leans forward with his elbows on his knees, looking around for a lighter, or maybe Harry's arms, before he grabs the bong off the the table, glass scraping against glass as he drags it closer. Someone procures a lighter from between the couch cushions and passes it over, to which Nick salutes them gratefully. His thumb pushes down against the grinders until a flame sparks, and he brings it to the bowl piece, mouth softly inhaling until the bowl is dark and the neck is filled with thick smoke. He pulls back to exhale, before diving back in, clearing the bong with wide eyes, chest expanding to it’s limits. Someone somewhere cheers for him, and Nick chokes on a laugh, exhaling rather choppily before giving the bong to someone else, leaning back against the couch with a sigh.

“Sure you don’t want a hit?”

Harry isn’t sure if they’re talking to him, but he shakes his head anyway. Nick places a warm hand on his knee, and squeezes. “Nah he’s good. More of an observer when it comes to this sort of thing. Isn’t that right?” 

Harry nods sleepily, nose tingling with the scent of weed in the air.

There are people laughing around him, and someone takes the drink he’s been clutching to his chest, before tugging him out of his seat. Everything tilts on it’s axis, and he feels a hundred hands grabbing him. It tickles. He stops giggling only when there are hands peeling off his clothes and laying him down on the bed, covers being pulled up to his chin. He whines, reaching out with new arms, he supposes.

“Oh no, you’re done for the night. Get some sleep, popstar. And don’t vom on any of my shit.” Harry smiles into the pillow, sending Nick away with a shoddy thumbs up, before the lights go out and his eyes slide closed.

_+_+_+_+_+

Most mornings Harry can get away with a headache and a sore back. But when he opens his eyes the next day, only to be faced with searing pain shooting through his head and melting his eyeballs, he thinks he might be dead this time. It’s just like Nick to leave his blinds open too. Even when Harry takes the ibuprofen on the nightstand, washing it down with the glass of water next to it, he’s still smarting over his loss of sight.

Never again, he tells himself. Nothing good ever comes from Jell-O shots.

He slept in his jeans last night, so all he has to do is slip on his shirt, and dig under the bed for his shoes, before he can slump down the hall into the kitchen. The living room is still trashed, glasses and crumbs littering the floor and nearby surfaces, a pair of heels left carelessly by the bathroom door. He finds a note on the kitchen counter from Nick, saying he had to go into work, and asking very nicely for Harry to not steal his fruit on his way out xxx.

After drinking another glass of water, Harry grabs as much fruit as he can hold in one hand and he climbs in his car and drives home.

 

_+_+_+_+_+

He feels like shit for the better part of his day. He runs his errands like a mad man, removing his sunglasses every so often to rub his eyes and pray for forgiveness, or sitting down every chance he gets before another wave of nausea hits him. By the time he gets home he’s pale and sweaty, stepping out of the shower only to slip into a pair of briefs and lay on the couch.

Louis gets home around four, keys clashing against the hall counter as he kicks his shoes off by the door. He’s on the phone too, cackling and cursing. Harry buries his head further into the couch, thinks maybe God will spare him and his hangover will go away after this next episode of Top Gear. He has high hopes.

“Yeah, right, Fucking sick mate. Lemme know how that goes, yeah? I’ve got to take care of something.” Harry looks up at him, tries to smile. Louis grins. “Yep, long night drinking with Grimmy no doubt. Right. See ya later.” He ends the call and approaches him.

“Budge up, sad face.” He says and Harry obliges, resting his head on Louis lap once he gets all settled. This is nice. As long as no one talks ever again, and the telly volume stays at a safe six.

He mumbles another never again that night after Louis had to spoon feed him his dinner, wrapped up in blankets and fuzzy socks. Louis just laughs again, kissing his temple. “That’s what you always say.” Harry groans. When Louis gets up to put their dishes in the sink, it’s with a soft eye roll and a scoff.

“Bloody party animal.”

 

_+_+_+_+_+

 

Of course, Harry does drink again, but it’s only a few beers, and there aren’t any colorful containers of alcohol-soaked gelatin in sight. 

All the boys are over, which means Nick is nowhere in sight. Liam brought his newfound laidback attitude, Niall brought enough beer to question whether or not he cleaned out a liquor store, and Zayn visited his friendly neighborhood drug dealer before coming over.

It’s looking like a good night so far.

“Excuse me? Don’t be comin into my house with that sort of slander, Niall James, or I’ll kick you right out on your arse.” 

Niall cackles from his spot on the floor. The game is paused on a goal, but there’s no way Louis’ going to press play until his point has been made.

“I’m just sayin’. This season’s been a bit disappointing is all.”

Louis stands, outraged. His hair is soft from his shower earlier, and he’s wearing a black vest top, biceps exposed and flexing as he gestures wildly with his hands, controller still gripped in his left. “Dis- Disappointing? Wha- Are you kidding? United sits third in the Premier League, and are in the quarterfinals for the cup. Not to mention, they’ve got 19 wins and just one fuckin’ loss.” Niall looks like he’s about to interrupt but gets steamrolled as usual. “So sorry if this season they’re not playing as attractively as you want ‘em to. Piss off, my team is kicking arse.”

Zayn pipes up from where he’s rolling a few joints, tongue darting out to wet the paper before admiring his work. “What about Deepdale, huh?” Harry doesn’t follow football much, but smothers a laugh into his hand at the look of betrayal on Louis’ face when he whips around. 

“Uh yeah. They won.”

Zayn scoffs. “Yeah only after they replaced Falcao with Young.”

“That has nothing to do with- you know what. I’m not having this discussion with you children. Niall, strap in.” And with that he unpauses the game.

Harry finishes his beer, and when he comes back from the kitchen with a few more, the game is paused again and Zayn is lighting a spliff while Louis scrolls on his phone and Liam is showing Niall a dance move in front of the telly.

Zayn gets it going, taking two hits before closing his eyes blissfully.

“That’s some good shit right there.” He says. Harry offers him a beer and he takes it. “Cheers mate. You want any?”

Before Harry can shake his head, Louis is snatching the spliff from Zayn’s hand, scoffing before pressing it to his lips and inhaling sharply, cheeks hollowed until he lets the smoke drift up into his nose, inhaling again. Show off. “Please. We all know Harry doesn’t smoke.”

He passes it to Liam, who lets it dangle from his mouth a bit as he watches Niall try to get the right footwork.

Zayn shrugs. “It’s always nice to offer.” 

Fucking Zayn, Harry hears Louis say under his breath. “Only you’d be nice enough. You’d offer a lactose intolerant kid ice cream just to be polite. Or like,” He pauses, getting the spliff back from Niall. “A priest, sex.”

Harry sips his beer moodily. He’s not a priest. And he sure as hell isn’t some little kid. In fact he’s not sure which he’s more offended by. Wait, why is he even offended? So what if he chooses not to smoke? It’s not like he can’t, per se. He just never really found it appealing. Something about all those black lung ‘after’ pictures they showed him as a kid in school just never felt worth it. But, he supposes, one couldn’t hurt. For the sake of showing Louis he’s not a little kid, he decided to go for it. (It’s not the first time he’s used that as an excuse for doing something irrational, and it won’t be the last.)

When Zayn takes his hit, Harry picks up a pre-rolled joint that’s been sitting on the coffee table when no one’s looking. After a beat, he grabs the lighter too. He’s almost got it lit when Louis makes a startled noise and practically leaps over Zayn to snatch the little blue Bic from his hands.

“What?” He asks, paper still between his lips. Louis is such a spoilsport.

Louis looks bemused. “What do you mean what- Harry do you know what you’re doing? How much have you had to drink?” Liam and Niall look over in the commotion.

Harry rolls his eyes. “I’m not drunk, Lewis, and I wanted to give it a try.”

With a few worried glances from Liam, Louis sighs. “Fine. But let me show you how.”

He walks around the couch to sit next to Harry. “Okay so, I’m gonna light it and take the first one, then I’ll give it to you. Sound reasonable?”

Now, Harry’s never seen Louis do it up close. He always knew it was one of his favorite things to do, between playing footy and hanging with his sisters. And he’s just so good at it, too. Harry’s seen people hack and sneeze and gag from these things, but Louis makes it look so easy, inhaling deeply, exhaling distractedly as he hands it to Harry, ashing the end gently onto the glass tabletop.

“Listen, don’t go takin’ a huge breath, okay? You’ll never want to breath again. Suck some smoke into your mouth, move your hand away, then inhale. Exhale after a mo’ so you can get the effects. ‘Kay?”

Harry nods, following Louis’ advice. The paper is a little wet from Louis’ mouth, and his first taste feels thick and earthy, like if he bit down it would be chewy and bitter. He hands Louis the spliff so he can focus on inhaling and not drop the damn thing on his carpet, or like his bare feet. 

The inhale burns. He can feel it scratching down his throat, fighting to claw its way back up after a second. He can feel his face heating up, eyes scrunched up as he fights the urge to cough.

Louis puts a hand on his leg. “Breath out, mate.” He says, and he sounds vaguely amused.

He lets the smoke out, and it looks a lot thinner than what the other boys have spewed, but Harry assumes that’s alright, seeing as it’s his first time and all. Baby steps, right? He only coughs once or twice, but his eyes water like mad, and he can’t help but laugh at himself when the boys all clap and cheer for him, patting his back like they’re in the locker room after a big game. Louis hands him his beer when he settles down.

“Here you are, champ.” He smirks. Harry raises his eyebrows at him.

“Am I cool now?” He asks, voice hoarse. He coughs again.

Louis shakes his head, sucking down another portion of the spliff as he stands with his hands in his jean pockets, approaching the stereo and plugging in his phone. Harry thumbs at the label of his bottle and smiles, suddenly feeling the weed start to affect him, as his eyelids get a bit heavier and his throat feels numb.

He’s definitely cool.

 

_+_+_+_+_+

 

Harry doesn’t inhale anything else until the boys come over again. Not only would Nick give him so much shit for trying to impress Louis, (he wasn’t of course) (although he hopes he did) but Harry doesn’t know where he’d find a seller. He assumes it’s one of those I-know-a-guy-who-knows-a-guy things that Zayn is so familiar with, so he waits patiently for a solid thirty minutes after Zayn and Louis bring out the bong to ask for it.

Zayn just gives him a knowing look, and Niall laughs at Liam who pulls a few notes out of his wallet out in defeat, but Louis actually grins.

“No mate, we don’t have any spliffs tonight. Maybe next time.”

And wait, what?

“HA! That’s right, fifteen quid thank you very much Li.”

Harry doesn’t even look at Niall, too busy frowning at Louis who is zipping up the plastic bags and putting things back into Zayn’s black backpack. “But I wanted to do that thing.” 

Zayn gets up from his seat with a yawn. “I’m having a smoke outside. Niall, Liam? Want to join?” He grabs his pack from his jacket on the back of the sofa, and the other two boys follow him, Liam still grumbling about losing money to Niall.

“Louiiis.”

“No, Harry.”

Harry scowls at him. “Why not?”

Louis sighs, running his hand through his hair. “It’s more, that’s why. You’ll trip if you take too much, I know you will. And that won’t be a good time for you. Or for any of us for that matter.”

Harry pouts. He doesn’t want to argue because he knows Louis knows more about this than him; He trusts his instincts or whatever. But that doesn’t mean he isn't miffed about it. He stares down at his knees.

After a minute he hears the couch shift and then Louis is on his left, dropping an open baggie on the table and setting the bong down as well. Harry looks at him questionably. If he thinks he’s just gonna light up right in front of his face well then he-

“Stop that. I’m gonna let you, okay?”

Harry grins at him, rubbing his hands together excitedly as Louis does his little stoner thing, picking off the stems and pushing them into the bowl piece so they’re nice and snug.

And this is why no one takes Harry seriously.

Louis brings the lighter to the bowl, but pauses to look over at Harry. “Listen,” he says. “This is going to be different. Open your mouth.” Harry does. He’s a little confused, but intrigued all the same. “Alright, now inhale when I tell you to.” And with that he lights the bowl, sucking the flame inside so the weed can glow red at the top. Once he gets a good lungful, he sets the bong down gently, but lets the lighter clash to the table and turns towards Harry, gripping his face with two of his smaller hands and leaning in close. Harry’s heart crawls into his throat. Is he going to-?

Louis taps his cheek twice with his index finger, and then his mouth is on his. 

It;s not quite a kiss, because Louis is blowing out and Harry is breathing in, mouth forming a big ‘O’ as he tries to catch it all. Whatever he can’t hold, Louis exhales off to the side, and Harry does the same with his. He can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of him, and he brings a hand up to his lips. “What was that?”

Louis just smirks. “That was shotgunning.”

“Did’ya have to kiss me?” He giggles. His eyes flicker down at Louis’ mouth, and then at the bong, before coming back to Louis’ mouth.

“That was hardly a kiss. You were too busy fishmouthing to give me any real action.” He turns his nose up and folds his arms across his chest, forearms flexing deliciously and woah-

Harry’s thoughts derail fast, and before he knows it he’s making up some excuse about not feeling it yet, so that he can get another hit.

Louis obviously sees through his bullshit, glancing down at where Harry’s twisting his rings, but he indulges him anyway, and when the next hit comes, Harry is ready.

Louis doesn’t need to warn him this time, and both of their eyes close when he leans in close and presses their lips together. It’s like skipping the first three courses and going straight to dessert. Louis’ hands are back on the sides of his face, and Harry puts his on Louis’ waist. Harry inhales as much as he can, and then some, exhaling gratefully against the side of Louis’ mouth. Before he can get another breath in, Louis’ is kissing him again, hands tangling in his hair while they both try to get their breath back. Harry pants against his mouth, and Louis takes the opportunity to slide his tongue between Harry’s lips, licking into his mouth. They both taste like beer and weed and Louis teeth have an underlying taste of nicotine on them but it's so good and the weed has made Harry’s mind so foggy that he has to remind himself why he doesn’t smoke.

He doesn’t come up with anything.

God, does weed affect everyone like this? Niall gets a serious case of the munchies, or so he’s said, but Niall eats a lot all the time, so he’s either always high (valid) or it simply heightens a craving he already has. Makes sense considering Liam gets on some next level rage dance mode when he’s had a good smoke, always wanting to go out and club. Only stopping when he’s sweaty and practically wheezing. Zayn just gets philosophical and turns into a human fortune cookie, trying to give strangers advice using song quotes and constantly checking in with everyone, saying ‘I’m so chill, bro, aren’t you? Don’t you feel chill?’ until everyone gets sick of him and locks him in a room somewhere. Or pushes him towards some hippie looking girls. They eat that shit up.

But Louis? Well he’s never really noticed anything different about Louis when he’s high. Sure, he’s more open in terms of letting loose and getting rough with the other boys, but he’s always been like that. 

Except he’s never been like this when he was high, at least not with Harry. He kisses exactly how Harry thought he would. He’s insistent and firm like he’s trying to prove a point. (Isn’t he always?) Harry meets him halfway for the most part. His brain is still three steps ahead of his body, so he’s a second away from pulling Louis into his lap when the sliding door opens and Niall comes barely through, only to freeze in his steps with soft “Woah. Boys.”

Louis jumps away from Harry like he’s been burned, eyes wide and lips glistening with spit. He looks deranged for a minute, wiping a hand down his face before reaching over to fix Harry’s hair, no doubt sticking up where Louis had buried his hands in it. Harry wiggles his eyebrows at Niall, and Louis swats his arm. Zayn moves past where Liam and Niall are stood gawking, and starts to collect his drug paraphernalia, shaking his head at Louis with an ill-concealed smile.

“Well shit,” Niall says, collapsing back onto the couch and sipping his unfinished beer. “I’m never shotgunning Tommo ever again.”

Louis winks at him. 

Niall gags, then fake cries until Liam holds him.

Louis winks at Harry next, and kisses his forehead real quick before shuffling to the kitchen to get another beer, and then it’s a movie marathon until they all fall asleep on each other like puppies. It ends just like any other one of their hangouts, which it was, but Harry still can’t shake the feeling of Louis’ lips against his own.

 

_+_+_+_+_+

 

The next time Harry gets the urge to smoke up again, Zayn is out of town. 

He’s off visiting his mum and sisters for the week, and he took all his drug dealing contact information with him.

He could ask Niall, but after the weekend of the Summer Solstice back in 2012, he’s stopped trusting Niall with fetching things at a good price, and not taking it all for himself.

Liam probably knows just as much as Harry does when it comes to drug dealing, so the only person he can turn to is Louis.

He calls him on a Thursday, after he’s has his morning run and is winding down in front of the telly with a sandwich. Louis picks up after three rings.

“Go for Louis.”

Harry groans. “Ugh you sound like such a tool when you answer like that.”

His laughter comes out tinny through the phone, but it’s still warm and bright, and Harry can’t help but smile.

“You got it baby,” He replies in his ridiculous American accent. “What did’ya need?”

“Um, well you know how Zayn’s gone?”

A pause.

“Yes…”

“Well, I think I’d like to purchase some weed, and I don’t really know how. Was gonna ask him, but, well you know.” He pulls his lip between his teeth and waits for the sharp laughter on the other end of the line. Instead, Louis just makes a thoughtful noise.

“I can help you out, yeah. I know a guy.” See? Connections.

“Oh great! So how much? Like, a hundred?”

Louis makes a choked off sound. “Uhm not unless it was rolled by the Queen herself, no. About forty should do.”

Well that sounds quite reasonable. “So it comes pre-rolled?”

Louis hums. “Sometimes. But it’s cheaper to just buy a few nugs and do it yourself.” Harry chews on his lip again. “I’m assuming there’s no point in asking if you know how to roll, so I think you should get a pipe.”

Swallowing, Harry brings the phone closer to his mouth. “A crack pipe?”

Now Louis laughs. “No, you idiot. A- well it’s not called a weed pipe but it- you know what? I’ll run to the smoke shop tomorrow, and I’ll get you one. I don’t trust you anywhere near those sort of establishments.” He laughs under his breath. “‘What’s this vase thing with all those hoses?’” He drawls in a deep voice, no doubt mocking Harry.

“Heyyy.” He pouts, but he can’t fight the smile creeping up. After a beat he pulls his feet up on the coffee table and finds himself staring at where he was sitting that night he and Louis kissed. “Thanks for doing this, Lou.”

There’s commotion in the background before it goes quiet again. “No worries, mate. Someone’s got to fetch you drugs right? Might as well be someone who knows well enough about both.” He hangs up before Harry can read into it.

So… Harry’s a stoner now?

 

_+_+_+_+_+_+

Nick pulls him out to the bar Friday night, and the little brown paper bag Louis had left on his nightstand that morning is still sealed and secure. He has no idea what Louis got him. For all he knows the pipe could look like a purple penis. In fact, he’s almost positive that’s what is inside. Either that or a small rock and a note that says ‘HA nice try ;)’

Harry really wants to know what’s inside that bag.

But Nick complained that it had been too long since Harry came ‘round and ‘got white-girl wasted’ with him so here he is, two Cosmos in, being a good friend.

It’s the same crowd as usual, Nick, Kyle, Nicole, some of Nick’s friends from work, the couple that lives on his floor, and a girl Nick used to date. A girl everyone used to date apparently. Anyways, he’s here at this tiny crowded bar and he’s having a good time for the most part, and when Nick says he needs to step out for a smoke, and a good half of the group goes with, Harry follows. 

They all huddle together in a wobbly circle of sorts, passing around the lighter because no one can be bothered to dig their own out of their coat pockets.

Kyle offers him a cigarette from his pack, and Harry shakes his head like he always does. 

“Doesn’t smoke, remember?” Nicole nudges him with knowing smile.

Harry clears his throat a bit, feeling all sorts of pleased with himself when he corrects her, saying “Well, not cigarettes at least.”

Nick turns from where he’s having a conversation with some red-haired girl and fixes Harry with a pointed look, coming up to wrap an arm around his shoulders.

“What’s this I hear about my baby boy hmm? Have you finally been corrupted?” Harry eyes where Nick’s cigarette is dangling off his shoulder and smirks.

“Maaayybe.” Their small group all voice their delight, and Nick gives Harry a half-arsed noogie. Harry pushes him away, fixing his hair and feeling his cheeks warm.

“Bet it was Tomlinson. Did that man subject you to his awful ways? Did he?” Harry blushes harder, and Nick just pulls him into his chest, stroking his hair with his free hand. “Damn that Louis Tomlinson! I’ll never get my baby’s innocence back.” And then he fake weeps like an old maid.

Harry doesn’t tell him that he made out with Louis. It’s probably for the best.

 

_+_+_+_+_+

 

The next morning he opens the bag. 

Nick dropped him off at home last night and he stumbled in to see Louis on the couch, laptop open on his lap, face illuminated as he twisted his headphone cord lazily between his fingers. It went something like this:

“Louis let’s smoke.”

“No Haz, you’re drunk.”

“Am not. You’re drunk.”

Cue exasperated sigh. “I’m not letting you get cross faded. Go to sleep.” And with that he stuck his headphones back in.

Again, Harry trusted Louis’ judgement. He thought about opening the bag and lighting the damn stuff himself, but it wouldn’t have been the same. He also reckons he would’ve burned down his curtains in his drunken state. So it was probably for the best that he fell asleep the minute his face hit the pillows.

But the next morning he wasn’t drunk. Nor was he hungover, which- if that’s not a sign, Harry doesn’t know what is.

He texts Louis the emoji of a person with pursed lips, and follows it with a smoke cloud. 

Louis replies that he’s buying breakfast down the street, and to wait for him, so Harry hops in the shower. He can still taste the sleep in his mouth, so he brushes his teeth for extra long, dancing on the tile with excitement for what’s to come. He hears Louis come in the front door and spits into the sink.

“Harry? I’m home. Grab the weed, mister, it’s time!”

Harry slips on a pair of sweats and meets him in the living room with the bag. Louis comes out of his room with his laptop, and clicks to his favorite Pandora station, claiming that listening to music when you’re high is the best.

He watches as Harry opens the bag and slides its contents onto the table. A good size baggie is there, with the weed inside, and next to it is a green lighter. What really makes Harry grin is the pipe Louis got him.

“Oh my god it’s so cute.” he gushes.

Harry fondles it in his hands, and Louis throws his head back and laughs. The pipe is small, fits in the palm of his hand, and it’s a pretty blue color. But along the neck, there’s a pink octopus wrapped around it, tentacles swirling towards the bowl like it’s reaching for it while its head sits on top. It’s fucking adorable. Louis got him an adorable little pipe. Harry could cry, honestly.

“Thanks Lou.” He grins. “For a minute I thought it was going to be in the shape of a wang or something.”

“They were fresh out actually, so. Hope this will do.”

Harry nods, eager to use it. He looks down at the weed and purses his lips. “Um, Lou? Could you?”

“Oh! Yeah sure of course.” He takes the pipe from Harry’s hands and packs the bowl efficiently. “You want the first go?”

Harry shakes his head. “No, go ahead.” Please get high again so you can kiss me.

Louis shrugs, before bringing the pipe to his lips, scoffing down at the pink octopus as he tilts the lighter sideways and inhales.

This time the weed goes a lot faster, and Harry notes that with a small pipe like this, they can only take a couple hits each before they have to repack it. It’s all the same really, just more work for Louis, who’s getting more and more animated every time he exhales a cloud of smoke. Harry is feeling it too. He can feel it thrumming through his veins, and collecting at his fingertips and the ends of his eyelashes. He’s surprisingly comfortable in his jeans, and the more he smokes, the more Louis makes him laugh with his stupid anecdotes, the softer they feel against his thighs. Enough that he’s dangerously close to half mast while Louis blows smoke rings across from him.

He’s drifting somewhere when Louis nudges his foot and holds out the pipe and lighter, voice tight and chest expanded as he holds the smoke in. “Go ahead, last bowl.”

Harry licks his lips, and reaches out from where he’s laying horizontal on the couch.

Louis tuts. “Come on Styles, sit up. You’ll get ashes all down your chest if you try to smoke like that.”

Harry just blinks at him, limbs feeling like he’s half asleep, yet he doesn’t feel tired at all. In fact he feels wired. Like there’s an itch he’s not scratching.

“Do that thing again.” He mumbles. Louis looks down at him questioningly. Harry clears his throat. “The shotgun thing.”

At first he thinks Louis isn’t going to do it. Like he only did it that first time to indulge Harry, or as a joke. But then he’s straddling Harry’s lap and stretching tall to inhale the smoke before bending down with his elbows on Harry’s chest, his face inches from Harry’s. Harry opens his mouth willingly and breathes in all that Louis gives him.

Harry gets distracted, staring dazedly at the way Louis’ eyes flutter shut, the way his lashes fan out across his cheeks leaving little shadows, so when Louis inhales the next hit, Harry takes the pipe from his hand, leaning up so he can pull the smoke right from Louis’ mouth. One he’s had his fill, he pulls him down with a hand on the back of his neck and kisses him senseless.

It’s a lot like last time in the sense that its fucking amazing. Louis makes a satisfied little noise, and drops the lighter somewhere on the floor, hands sliding into Harry’s hair and twisting strands around his fingers so they’re practically tethered together and that does things to Harry. Louis is just so compact, tucked up into the space between Harry’s neck and his belt. The pipe goes clattering onto the table so Harry’s hands are free when he goes to wrap them around Louis’ waist, pulling him closer.

He pulls his knees up to try and scoot backwards so his back will be propped up against the armrest, but before he can Louis sits up and pulls his shirt off.

“Shit.” Harry swears, foreign hands coming up to feel the sparse hair and the tattoo looped throughout. Louis drops his shirt over the back of the couch and grins before ducking back down to run his lips along Harry’s jaw.

Now, Harry likes to consider himself an optimist, he really does. The glass is half full, the best is yet to come, the future is bright and all that. But forgive him just this once for thinking that this can’t possibly be happening to him. There’s got to be a catch somewhere in that brown paper bag because there’s no way Louis Tomlinson’s arse is firmly planted against his crotch and a hidden camera crew isn’t hiding in the kitchen somewhere, giggling into their sleeves. Can you imagine the ratings? He really hopes this isn’t some one time thing. This might not be the best time for him to explore these thoughts again after so long, especially when his brain-to-mouth filter is no doubt compromised from the weed and Louis- the guy he’s been quite possibly yes definitely in love with. Harry isn’t proud to admit it, but he’s had many a late night wanks over the way Louis flicks his hair and giggles into his hand when his walls are down. The way he commands the attention of everyone in the room and the way his eyes go soft when his sisters come to visit. He’s been arse over tea kettle for this boy for so long without any sort of feedback from Louis that he had no choice but to shove all those gooey feelings into a crate and label it not happening. But here, now, with Louis’s tongue flicking against the roof of his mouth, he doesn’t want to open that box with a crowbar called false hope if it’s only going to make things worse for Harry. He needs to know where they stand.

After Louis sits on his dick preferably.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts quite literally when he feels something tugging in his gut. Sometime during his weird inner monologue his own shirt was removed and probably lies with Louis’ behind the couch for him to pick up later. He looks down at Louis who’s on his knees between Harry’s still-bent legs, hands tugging at Harry’s belt quite insistently.

Harry moans for no other reason than because it’s such a pretty sight.

Louis looks up at him through his fringe before wiping his forehead like he’s just ran. “Hey you’re back. Where’d you go?” He laughs. Harry blushes.

“Nowhere. M’back now.” Louis smirks at him, and Harry lifts his hips up so Louis can slide his belt backwards through the loops like a cassette tape in the hands of a 5 year old.

Oh man he’s started making weird analogies. It would be best to limit his sentences to Yes and Please from now on.

Once his jeans are off, Louis wastes no time in getting his mouth on Harry’s dick- through his briefs, of course, cause he wants Harry to suffer. He flattens his tongue and works at getting Harry hot and bothered. No really. He pins Harry down with two hands on the bony juts of his hips and a firm look and mouths at him over the black fabric until there is no hiding just how hard he is. 

How hard he is for Louis.

Oh god.

“Louis. Lou stop-” He tries. His head feels like it’s filled with cotton and he can feel panic flooding his body.

Louis sits up straight, hands flat against his thighs. He looks confused, which- yeah that’s understandable. Harry is giving all the mixed signals.

“What’s wrong?” Louis asks, he reaches a hand out to stroke Harry’s calf in an assumably soothing matter but wow is that not helping Harry right now. He jerks away from Louis’ touch, and his heart drops when he sees Louis’ face fall a second before he shifts it into something less heartbreakingly sad.

What has the world come to that Harry Styles is rejecting Louis Tomlinson?

“Um can we talk about something?” 

Louis’ shoulders sag. “Sorry this is my fault. I totally took advantage of you,” he turns towards the coffee table and starts cleaning up, or well, it looks like that’s what he’s trying to do but Louis doesn’t clean so he just sort of ends up brushing all the trimmings onto the carpet and tossing the pipe in the bag. Harry reaches out for his wrist.

Louis shakes him off. “No, Harry, don’t try and lie to me, you’re too nice okay?” He turns and meets Harry’s gaze. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

Wait, what?

“No no, that’s not what this is about, it’s-” he pauses. “You think I don’t want this?” He asks, baffled.

Louis huffs like it’s actually a possibility. What?

“Of-Of course I want this, I mean. How could I not want this? You're my best friend.”

Louis just blinks slowly. 

“Then what's up?”

Harry swallows nervously. “I just. I really like you?” The end of his love declaration ends in such a way that makes it sound like a question. Like he isn't positive he’d get down on his knees and wax poetic about the shape of Louis’ thighs or the way the light coming through his curtains bounces off him in tiny rays of gold.

Hands smooth up his chest, coming to curl around his jaw as lips press against his forehead. He can feel a smile.

“Harry. Darling.” He starts. “You know you're my favorite.”

Harrh’s stomach sinks like someone dropped an anchor inside him. But before he can scramble away to maybe hide forever Louis speaks again.

“I’d never do something like this if I didn't feel something for you. And that's just my shitty way of saying I’m in love with you.” He smiles, bashful all of a sudden. “What happened last night wasn't a one-off, or a mistake if that's what you're thinking.”

“It isn't.” Harry says. It is he thinks.

Louis shushes him quite rudely with a finger over his lips.

“I know that's what you were thinking. And I know, I'm a pretty reckless person, especially under the influence of some good weed,” He nods towards the coffee table. “But you really don’t understand how long I've wanted to kiss you.”

The music from Louis’ laptop switches to something decidedly unromantic, but Harry still feels his eyes water with relief. His erection may have flagged a bit in preparation for what could've been the most embarrassing moment of his life, but it perks back up when Louis leans down and kisses him heatedly.

Harry breaks away to sigh wistfully like a Disney princess, or so he thinks. It comes out more like a whimper.

Louis laughs. “Does that clear things up, Curly?” Harry nods.

“Okay good. Now where were we?” he smirks before scooting down and coming face to face with Harry’s half hard dick. Harry lays back again as Louis gets settled between his legs.

“Ah yes, now I remember.”

And with that he pulls down Harry’s underwear just enough so his bits are free, the elastic coming up to rest behind his balls.

Warmth blooms low in Harry’s guy with anticipation. Yes let’s continue he thinks. 

“Please.” he whispers, hands curling into Louis’ hair, not pulling, but encouraging.

Louis complies eagerly, wrapping a hand around the base and licking around the head, tongue swirling in all the right places.

“Louis- fuck.” 

He can hear Louis snickering when he pops off to look up at Harry through his lashes.

“You taste good.” He murmurs for no other reason than to make Harry sweat. “Will you fuck me, Harry?”

Harry’s response is to moan loudly, pulling Louis up by his hair and kissing him senseless. He tongues into Louis’ mouth like his life depends on it, trying to convey what his drug/lust addled mind can't turn into words. 

Louis’ hand drags up his length, squeezing at the tip, making Harry shiver as his head lolls back. Louis takes the opportunity to strike when Harry’s weak and attaches his mouth to Harry’s throat, nipping and sucking at the line of his jaw.

Louis could probably wank him off just like this and it would still be the greatest sex he's ever had, but Louis suggested something rather enticing and Harry would love to get on top of that, so he reaches for Louis’ fly, unzipping him and tugging on his jeans until Louis removes himself from Harry’s neck, giving his latest bruise an appraising look before climbing off Harry’s lap and shimmying out of the rest of his clothes.

Harry’s brain finally catches up after he's given Louis’ cock a mouthwatering glance and he hurries to kick his pants off.

The heat between them kicks up a few notches when Louis climbs back on top of him, their dicks sliding together perfectly, wet with spit and precome.

“God, I can't wait to feel you inside me.” Louis gasps, head thrown back.

“Ditto.” Harry manages, grabbing at Louis’ arse and using it for leverage so he can thrust up against him.

“Fuck- okay okay. Can you teach my bag?” Louis motions over to wear his black backpack is laying under the coffee table, and Harry thanks the gods for having such a long wingspan so he only has to remove one hand from Louis’ glorious arsecheeks and slide the bag over. 

“Got it.”

“Okay there should be lube inside- get it for me would you?” He breathes, hips stuttering to a stop as he braces himself with his hands against Harry’s chest.

Harry fumbles with the zipper for a moment before he finds the tube amongst receipts and crumpled bills.

“You carry this everwhere you go?” Harry laughs, breathlessly, handing it to Louis who slicks his own fingers up before reaching behind himself and sliding one in.

“Quite convenient now, innit?” He laughs, choking on a moan when he enters a second in, bicep flexing where it's bent at an awkward angle.

God he's a fucking work of art, fingering himself with little finesse, purely to get himself ready as fast as he can. He’s quite brutal about it, brow furrowed as he gives it to himself hard and fast. Harry reaches around and feels where Louis’ now got three fingers crooning inside himself, rubbing his middle finger around Louis’ stretched rim. Louis moans brokenly, nodding down at Harry as sweat drips off his nose.

They're both quite warm now, sunlight heating the room from where it shines through the windows and bounces off the wood floors. Seeing Louis in this light is much more appealing than if they did this in the dark. Here Harry can see every twitch of his muscles as he curls in in himself. He can see the way he bites his lip and closes his eyes when Harry slides his finger in alongside Louis’ so that there's four stretching him out now.

“Alright I'm good. Please just-” Louis pulls his fingers out and reached for the lube as Harry puts a few of his own fingers in, crooking them in search of Louis’ prostate, just to watch him crumble and lose focus where he’s trying to slick up Harry’s cock.

“You fucking bastard.” He moans, and Harry groans when Louis grips him with a tight fist.

“You ready?” Harry asks, moving his hands to Louis’ hips while Louis positions himself over Harry’s dick, swollen and shiny with lube.

Louis nods, and then proceeds to sink down, holding himself steady on shaky legs until the head pops through, and from there on it's one smooth, painfully slow glide until his Harry’s hips meet the flesh of Louis’ arse.

“Jesus Christ.” Harry bites out, awed. “You feel amazing.”

Louis just sighs, hips moving in little figure eights as he gets used to the stretch, clenching and unclenching maddeningly around where Harry’s buried as far as he can go.

“Fucking shit!” Louis laughs. “Knew you'd make me sore. Fuck you're so big.”

Harry blushes, he can feel it spread down his neck and chest as Louis rises a bit, coming back down with a slap of skin on skin. They moan at the same time.

Louis fucks like he’s got all the time in the world, bouncing lazily while Harry has his mind fucking blown beneath him. He’s so tight and the heat is overwhelming. Their bodies rock together and it's so good Harry could cry.

That is until Louis decides he’s done going easy on Harry and pulls up until Harry’s almost slipped out, slamming back down hard enough to make Harry’s teeth clench.

Harry thrusts up experimentally, aiming his cock for where Louis wants it. He knows he's found it when Louis falls onto his elbows, tummy clenching and nails digging into Harry’s pecs as he lets Harry fuck up into him.

Harry wraps his arms round Louis’ waist, holding him close as he tries to hold off his orgasm as long as he can, already feeling it curling inside him. “I'm about to come.” He earns, and Louis’ ragged moans in his ear push him to deliver a few more well-aimed thrusts before he finally lets go, spilling into Louis with a guttural groan as his hips come to a stop. Louis gasps and clenches around him, no doubt feeling how wet Harry made him inside and he sits up, keeping one hand braced against Harry’s lower belly as he pulls at his cock roughly with his other hand.

“Fuck fuck fuck” he chants, head turned up towards the ceiling as he wanks himself.

Harry rolls his hips against Louis still, cock not yet soft as he comes down from his orgasm, hands coming around to roll Louis’ balls and thumb over his slit while he watches Louis get closer and closer to the edge.

“You look so good like this Lou, fuck. Can't believe I came inside you.” He says, and Louis must feel Harry’s come leak out at Harry’s last thrust because then he's clenching hard once again and his cock jerks hard in their hands, come landing in Harry’s butterfly tattoo as Louis wails.

Harry can't help but moan too, bringing Louis crashing down for a bruising kiss as he shakes through the aftershocks. He holds him for a minute, tongues dancing together as they try to slow their heart rates.

Finally Louis carefully pulls off with a curse, flopping down between Harry and the back of the couch, groaning like he's just run a marathon which- yeah that's how Harry feels too.

They're both still in a daze, but when Harry feels he can speak again he can't stop.

“God Lou that was- You were- And we were- And-” 

Louis shushes him with a hand over his mouth which. Okay there's come on his fingers a bit which should be disgusting but Harry soon finds he doesn't care and he sucks them into his mouth, only returning them when they're clean and when his dick twitches in exhaustion.

“You're quite the shag, Harry Styles.” He hears, and turns to look at Louis in all his sweaty, disheveled state. 

God he looks fucked out. Proper wrecked and Harry did that to him. It's the best day of his life and it isn't even three o'clock yet.

He's humbled.

“I really love you, ya know.” He says, meeting Louis’ eyes.

Louis smiles, eyes crinkling as he twines their fingers together.

“Ditto, baby.” He says, and leans in to kiss him, fingers coming to sort through the tangles on Harry's hair. You know, from the sex they just had.

Jesus.

They both eventually sit up though, and after a hot shower in which Harry eats Louis out leisurely, enjoying the effect the steam sobers him up, giving him the clarity to really enjoy all Louis’’ arse has to offer, they've tire out back into the living room to clean up.

Louis is picking up their clothes when Harry picks up the little pink pipe, smiling down at it. 

Louis comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Harry’s waist.

“It’s too bad we’re out of weed, huh?” He says, breath warm against the back of Harry's neck. “I could go for another round.”

Harry laughs, turning around the kiss Louis. Now that sounds like a great way to spend the rest of their day. Or their lives really. Because now that Harry’s got him, he doesn't plan on letting him out of his sights.

“Does this mean I have to get a drug dealer?” He wonders it loud.

Louis just laughs, swiping the pipe from his hands before scampering off the the bedroom, backpack full of weed swinging in his arms. Harry grins, then decides to chase him.

You could say Harry’s a fan of smoking now. Or maybe he's just a fan of Louis. But that will never change.

**Author's Note:**

> :) I tried fam  
> comments and kudos are much appreciated. stay tuned for the next fic I eventually finish at 3am like usual!


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